


don't hide from me

by Ser_Thirst_A_Lot



Series: Camp Nano 2020 Fics and Ficlets [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Soulmates, mostly fluff because Hashi is a hopeless romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Thirst_A_Lot/pseuds/Ser_Thirst_A_Lot
Summary: When you’re born, the first sentence you’re going to say to your soulmate is written somewhere on your body. Hashirama’s soulwriting says:I love you.Tobirama’s has always been simply:Anija.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama
Series: Camp Nano 2020 Fics and Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685827
Comments: 27
Kudos: 210





	don't hide from me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unquiet_Words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unquiet_Words/gifts).



> FINALLY i finished something for hashitobi :D this was written for a Camp NanoWriMo prompt and sorry to the prompter because i kinda forgot how to write >.> but still hope you enjoy it x)
> 
> ~~also lemme just say i adore HashiTobi and i feel so lonely in my shipping of this pairing so IF YOU LOVE THEM AS MUCH AS I DO PLEASE SCREAM AT ME ABOUT THEM ANY TIME, I BEG OF YOU *sob sob* I LOVE MADATOBI AND THE CONSTANT CONTENT OKAY, BUT HASHITOBI??? IS?????? SO BEAUTIFUL?????? *sobbing intensifies*~~
> 
> kay sorry, i'll restrain myself xD onto the story!

“I can’t _wait_ to meet my soulmate again,” Hashirama sighs, lying on his back on the soft grass of his and Tobirama’s favorite meadow, clothes sweat-drenched from their intense bouts of sparring. “I wonder what they’re like. Tobi?” He turns to face his brother. “Who do you think would suit me best?”

Tobirama is lounging on the ground next to him, in much the same position, though his eyes are closed and his muscles are far too tense—from the sensing, no doubt, his enormous range far too much for his eight-year-old body to handle. Hashirama reaches out absent-mindedly and kneads his chakra through Tobirama’s palm to envelop his body, smiling when the effect is immediate, and his little brother completely relaxes under his touch.

“Someone fun,” Tobirama says, cracking an eye open, “brave, kind, just like you. Someone with…” He gives Hashirama an appraising look. “A similar level of intelligence.”

“Was that a jab at my intelligence or an acknowdgelement of my genius?”

Tobirama shrugs. “You’ll never know.” Though his tone flat, Hashirama has long trained himself to spot the hints of derision in his eyes. “And it’s _acknowledgement,_ Anija.”

“Tobi,” Hashirama whines, “stop being so mean to me!”

“How is correcting your atrocious grammar mean?” Tobirama asks, in that squeaky cute voice that _really_ doesn’t fit his personality. “And I’ll stop being mean when _you_ stop acting like an idiot when we spar.”

“But Tobi—”

“ _Even_ if you’re going easy on me, you’re magnitudes stronger than me, and I shouldn’t ever be able to catch you by surprise,” Tobirama chastises him, ignoring Hashirama’s trembling pout, “because we’re at war, and as far as everyone’s concerned, we’re _adults_. You need to take your training seriously, Anija.”

Just to be contrary, it seems, Hashirama sticks his tongue out in the most childlike manner possible and shifts his gaze back to the sky again, a full-fledged frowny pout now distorting his features.

Tobirama sighs.

His brother is ridiculous.

And annoying.

And adorable.

He sits up with another overly loud sigh and gently pushes Hashirama to follow his example, scrambling to sit behind Hashirama’s back and start braiding his hair. The usual peace offering. His brother melts under the attention in a way that makes Tobirama feel warm, happy, _proud of himself,_ and a few minutes pass in increasingly comfortable silence before Tobirama starts speaking again,

“As I said, I think your soulmate will be kind. And understanding. And empathetic, just like you are. They’ll love nature and animals and you’ll spend a lot of time outdoors, going on adventures…” _Just like you and_ I _do right now._ Tobirama frowns and quickly shoos the treacherous thoughts away. “They’ll be just as funny, optimistic, brave, and strong as you are. And they will always have your back.” He finishes the two neat braids, smoothing it against Hashirama’s shoulder blades. “All done.”

Hashirama turns to face him and Tobirama _has_ to roll his eyes at the painfully familiar teary smile he sees. He returns it, of course, tentatively, and is immediately crushed by one of Hashirama’s overtight hugs.

“Oh, Tobi,” he says, voice trembling, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Anija,” Tobirama whispers against the crook of his his neck. Hashirama only ever revealed his soulwriting to Tobirama, apart from their parents who’d seen it suddenly appear at some point, so Tobirama knew those exact words, _I love you,_ marked the skin of Hashirama’s forearm. The words he had presumably spoken to Tobirama after he was born, because Tobirama’s own soulwriting is a terrible, damning curse consisting of a single word:

_Anija._

It resides on his shoulder and is small enough that it was hidden by his clothes when it appeared in answer to the first word he’d ever spoken. A late bloomer when it came to learning to speak, Tobirama could already read by the time he was three and had picked up enough about soulmates and soulmarks from the adults’ conversations to know that he _shouldn’t_ have been bonded with his brother.

That according to _Senju_ tradition, such relations were frowned upon, so close to something bad the grownups called _taboo_ , and so Tobirama developed a habit of hiding his soulwriting meticulously. It scared him, made him suffer, had him terrified of the possibility of losing his most precious person. Because one thing became clearer over the years—his Anija is, indeed, his perfect match. His best friend, his only trusted battle partner, the only person in his life Tobirama truly needs and wanted to be around constantly. And it hurts Hashirama too. He _knows_ he had spoken to his soulmate at some point but missed that moment, he _craved_ —and still craves—the day he meets his Chosen once more, oblivious to the fact that he’s spending most of his days next to him.

Next to Tobirama. So different from the image of the ideal soulmate he painted for Hashirama all those years ago, when they were careless kids lounging in their secret meadow, hunting for flowers and animals in the swirls of the clouds. So unlike the person Hashirama imagines and whispers to Tobirama about, when they have secret sleepovers in their respective rooms during their teen years.

_Funny._

_Passionate._

_Kind._

_Sincere._

_Compassionate._

The truth about Tobirama’s personality slips out of the mouths of his clanmates, usually the elder ones.

_Too serious._

_Cold._

_Merciless._

_Reclusive._

_Demon._

The last one peeves him the most—a moniker bestowed on him for his ferocity in combat, only increasing as he grows from lanky teen to all but a full-fledged adult. It doesn’t matter that he only ever fights to protect his family, his _very_ few friends, to protect his clan that he still holds dear to his heart, despite everything, so that what happened to Kawarama and Itama doesn’t happen to anyone he cares about _ever_ again. It doesn’t matter that, for Hashirama’s far-reaching dream of peace, he takes great care to never wound Izuna seriously when they clash, so as not to upset Hashirama’s once best friend ( _The one who_ would _be perfect for Hashirama, had Fate allowed it,_ Tobirama’s mind continues to betray him.)

It doesn’t matter that he still cries quietly into Hashirama’s shoulder every time a battle is too much, too red with blood, too bitter with the smell of death and rotting flesh. Hashirama calms him with soft words and simple breathing exercises, holding him close and healing his wounds with well-practiced waves of his hands.

“Am I a monster?” Tobirama asks him, heart heavy with the weight of the war and death permeating everything around them.

“Of course not,” Hashirama’s answer is always the same, “Tobirama, you’re my brother. My amazing, wonderful, _precious_ , dearest brother. You’re not a monster. And you never will be. I _love_ you.”

It’s in the aftermath of such a violent battle that Tobirama’s world is shattered because of one careless, _foolish_ mistake.

In an effort to protect a reckless clanmate (fourteen, the youngest one on the field after Hashirama and Tobirama had strong-armed their weakening, disease-ridden father to disallow child soldiers to be sent to combat), Tobirama fails to evade the blade that pierces his upper arm. His senses only barely register _poison_ before he throws a kunai in a precise, deadly strike and promptly collapses to his knees.

It’s _far too_ _hot_.

The fever burns through him almost like a real fire licking at his skin, eating away at it.

Tobirama knows he’s screaming—and a lot—but can’t stop himself, even as he hears the soothing tone of Hashirama’s voice, feels the reassurance radiating with all the force of his brother’s life-giving chakra, relishes the faint ‘I love you’ he can hear through the burning haze. The knowledge that Anija is nearby is enough to make Tobirama pull through—and far too soon for a poison this strong.

He regains consciousness two days later, finding himself in his room, not a hospital ward, completely healed and coherent.

“Anija?” Tobirama calls for him.

He’s is nowhere to be seen.

It’s at that moment that the implications of the incident catch up to him. He’s shirtless, patched up where he was wounded, while the kanji of his soulwriting gleams golden on his opposite arm.

“Shit.” Tobirama scrambles out of bed, heart pounding. There’s dried blood on him that he quickly washes away, untying the bandages and hastily throwing on the first things he can reach.

He can feel Hashirama’s chakra, somber and tense, out by the koi pond on the outskirts of the compound. Without much restraint, Tobirama uses the Hiraishin to get to his brother, coming face to face with what he dreads is going to be disappointment, disgust, hatred—

Hashirama only sighs in relief.

He stands from where he was sitting cross-legged near the pond and draws Tobirama into the painfully familiar bone-crushing hug that has Tobirama choking up, even as no words are passed between them.

Just silence.

Synchronized breathing.

Chakra kneaded together, just like it always is when they need reassurance of the other’s survival and well-being. It’s too much, suddenly, it’s—

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hashirama asks softly, drawing away but keeping his hands firmly on Tobirama’s shoulders. “Tobirama, your soulwriting—why did you keep it from me?”

Tobirama swallows through the tightness in his throat. “Because… I-I’m your brother. I’m not…” He waves his hands in a gesture that’s supposed to convey all the things he _isn’t,_ every failure of his personality and actions.

Hashirama doesn’t get it.

“Not—what?” he asks. Tobirama can see the heartbreak in his eyes, doesn’t understand why his Anija would want to torment him this way.

“Not enough,” Tobirama breaths, and to his horror, every fear, every secret, every restrained admission of feelings comes spilling out now that his darkest secret has been revealed. “Not good enough. I’m not what you need, Anija, and everyone _knows_ that, _knows_ that I’m not you, not _like_ you, and I _never_ will be—”

Hashirama hugs him close again and lets him speak, rubbing soothing circles against Tobirama’s back and burying his face in the crook of his neck without a word. Soon enough, though, Tobirama feels a smile bloom against his skin, confusion spiking in him as he continues his sudden tirade of withheld confessions.

“You know,” Hashirama interrupts him at some point, “for a genius, you sure can be very stupid sometimes.”

Tobirama blinks. “What?”

Hashirama draws back again and frames Tobirama’s face with his hands, grinning widely, no hint of tears or disappointment in his eyes, only pure inexplicable elation.

“I love you,” Hashirama says, voice barely above a whisper as he recited the words embedded on his skin—uncovered now because he never felt the need to, if it’s Tobirama he was with. “Those are the first words I spoke to you. I forgot, because I’m an idiot, but you,” he thumbs Tobirama’s nose, making his face scrunch up, “are a bigger idiot for not allowing us to form a proper bond for _seventeen_ years, Tobirama.” He stops abruptly as a thought seems to occur to him. “You want that, right?”

“More than anything,” Tobirama admits, dazed.

“Well so do I, dummy.” Hashirama laughs, and the waves of _joy—relief—love_ crash from his chakra in overwhelming waves, flooding Tobirama’s senses and drawing a smile from him, too. “May I kiss you?” he asks, in all seriousness.

Tobirama roughly draws him into a kiss in place of an answer.

He slows down almost immediately, though, because it occurs to him, through the buzzing excitement, that he’s never actually done this before. It doesn’t seem to be a problem, though, as Hashirama gently coaxes him to follow his lead. He moves his lips languidly against Tobirama’s, prodding his mouth open and deepening the kiss, drawing low moans from the both of them as they relish the closeness they’ve both been wanting so much.

“Seventeen years,” Hashirama whispers when they break apart for air, “we’ve got _so much_ missed time to make up for.”

Tobirama shivers, and not just from the adrenaline coursing through his body.

“The clan—”

“Can go fuck themselves, for all I care,” Hashirama declares, stealing a quick kiss that, despite being softer and more innocent than their recent one, makes Tobirama blush. “You’re my most precious person, Tobirama, and I won’t let _anyone_ take away what we have. What we _will_ have.”

Tobirama has another sudden urge to kiss his brother again. He does just that. They drink in each other’s breaths and moans, let wandering hands explore, though Hashirama restrains him when Tobirama’s hands get a little _too curious._

“Seriously?” Tobirama asks, unimpressed.

“Seriously,” Hashirama says firmly. “I want to do this right. And that means _slow._ ”

“Right means right, and slow means slow, Anija, those terms aren’t interconnected.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I really don’t.”

“ _Tobirama.”_

Huffing, Tobirama lifts his hand to instead stroke the elegant line of Hashirama’s neck. The skin warm and full of energy beneath his fingers, grounding Tobirama and making him feel, for the first time, completely safe and barely bothered by the thoughts of an uncertain future.

“We’ll be okay,” he says, half stating, half questioning.

“Of course, we will,” Hashirama promises. “Don’t worry, Otouto, we’ll get through anything together.” He presses their foreheads together. “ _I love you._ ”

And just like that, the flimsy remnants of Tobirama’s doubt dissipate.

“I love you too,” he says, tugging Hashirama in for another kiss of hopefully countless more to come, “ _Anija._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for the read! :3
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://louiserandom.tumblr.com)


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